


December 11: sugar and spice

by dizzy



Series: farewell and gtfo 2016 daily fic advent [11]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 21:45:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8817316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: prompt: Dan and Phil and Christmas baking and "All I Want for Christmas is You"





	

Dan kicks Phil out of the kitchen. Not only does he kick Phil out of the kitchen, but he drapes one of his bedsheets over the glass door so Phil can’t even look through to see what Dan is doing inside. 

“Baking,” is all Dan will say. “I’m going to bake.” 

“Why!” Phil protests. “You can’t bake alone! You’ve never baked alone!” 

Dan stands his ground, as intimidating as he can be in an apron depicting a naked, ripped Santa and candy cane mittens on his hands. “First time for everything.” 

“But-” Phil pouts. It’s a pout for comedic effect, but underneath it there’s genuine hurt. Dan feels bad, but - not that bad. He’s on a mission. 

Dan points to the door. “Out.” 

Phil turns and slinks away. 

*

Dan pulls the Delia Smith cookbook off their shelf with absolutely zero sense of irony. 

Two hours later he’s bringing it back.

“You failed me,” Dan informs the cover of the book, then slots it back into the short row of them. 

“What-” Phil starts to say.

Dan only shakes his head. “She failed me.”

Phil waits until Dan has walked away and then goes over to the book, picking it up like it might give him some kind of clue.

It does not. 

“You failed us both,” Phil says to it, then leaves it to his shame. 

*

“Dan, it’s four pm. I haven’t eaten in _hours_.” Phil cracks the door open ever so slightly to make sure Dan can hear him, then whines. “And you won’t allow me into the place where the food lives.”

“Daniel, are you starving your poor boy?” Dan’s Nana voice tuts out. Since Phil is reasonably certain she didn’t teleport into the flat, he assumes Dan has her on the phone. 

“He eats, Nana. Everything in the house. I promise,” Dan says.

“Nana!” Phil’s face lights up. He speaks even louder. “He’s starving me right now. I probably won’t make it through the night.” 

“Daniel!” Dan’s Nana admonishes him. “Give him a biscuit at least, to tide him over.” 

Phil hears Dan’s long-suffering sigh. “Only so you stop making that face at me, Nana.” 

Facetime, then. 

Dan opens the door just long enough to shove them through and then says to Phil, “Now leave me alone.” 

Phil shoves one into his mouth and then grins, bits of biscuit crumb on his bottom lip. 

*

Phil orders takeaway for dinner. 

When it arrives he knocks on the kitchen door. “I got Indian,” he says. “From the place you like.” 

The oven timer dings. 

“Leave it on the floor,” Dan says. “I’ll get it in a minute.” 

“You’re not even going to eat with me?” Phil asks, shocked. “But we were going to watch the next episode of-” 

“Later, Phil.” Dan sounds frustrated and harried. 

“... fine.” Phil tries to ignore the weird heaviness that settles in his chest. He doesn’t like Dan not telling him things. Even though it can’t be anything very serious, the world feels tilted on its axis at the idea of Dan keeping things from him - especially things clearly so important to Dan that it’s driving him to not stop and have dinner with Phil. 

Phil checks back ten minutes later and the food container is gone, at least. 

*

Phil puts on Star Wars and turns the volume up extra loud, in hopes that it’ll lure Dan out. 

All that happens is that his neighbor texts to complain about the bass and also Phil’s choice to watch Phantom Menace. 

He falls asleep just before the fight with Darth Maul. It’s not nearly as fun without Dan saying which bits make him the most mad. 

*

When Phil wakes up in the morning it doesn’t look like Dan’s side of the bed has even been touched. 

“Have you even slept?” Phil calls out through the door. 

“Go answer the door,” Dan says. 

Phil half-turns in the hallway. Five seconds later, the doorbell goes. 

“Hi,” Martyn says. He has a red plaid hat pulled down over his ears. “Nice to see you, little brother.” 

“Nice to see you too,” Phil says, manners on autopilot. Then: “What are you doing here?” 

Martyn gives him an apologetic smile. “Can’t say.” 

Then he pushes past Phil and goes into the kitchen.

Martyn leaves an hour later. As he goes, he wipes off the corner of his mouth and says, “You’re a very lucky man.” 

“Dan.” Phil’s voice is strangled. “ _Dan_. Exactly what were you doing with my brother?” 

*

The entire second day goes like the first. Phil lurks around the hallway, smelling the delicious smells that come out of the kitchen but only catching brief glimpses of Dan as he has to break for the toilet now and then. 

Bored out of his mind, Phil puts Christmas music on and decides to do some tidying of the hall closet. He cranks it up extra loud when Mariah comes on and sings - not directly at the kitchen door but perhaps in the vicinity of it. 

“I just want you for my own…” Phil croons. 

Without missing a beat, from the kitchen comes: “More than you could ever know!” 

They sing the next bit at the same time, swapping off on lines and sometimes harmonizing for the rest of the playlist. It’s not exactly the cuddle Phil is craving, but it is fun. 

*

Phil has relocated his sulk to the lounge and is watching a special festive themed episode of his favorite property show when Dan walks in. 

There are dark circles under his eyes. He looks tired and miserable and wound up tight. “I want to sleep now.” 

“Do I get to see what you made?” Phil asks, looking slightly behind Dan like maybe it’ll just appear. 

“Phil.” Dan’s voice is quietly pleading. “Can I sleep first?” 

Phil wants to say no, but also he had to sleep alone the night before and the whole flat has a chill to it and he loves when Dan is sleepy and craving cuddles just as much as Phil. 

“Yeah,” Phil says. “We’ll sleep.” 

*

When he wakes up in the morning and walks into the lounge, there’s a plate of picture-perfect cakes on the middle of the table. 

“There’s more in the kitchen,” Dan says. “A lot of reject batches. But these were the acceptable ones.” 

“Dan-” Phil stares at them, then turns to look at Dan. “These look…” 

“Happy Christmas,” Dan says. He’s wearing a hoodie that belongs to Phil, hair a curly mess. He looks young and nervous and beautiful. 

“I don’t understand,” Phil says, because he doesn’t. 

Dan’s face falls a little but he soldiers on. “You said last year you couldn’t ever miss going home for Christmas because no one makes cakes like your mum, so I thought I’d try. They’re not identical. I tried. Your mum gave me all her recipes, but some of them still didn’t turn out right. And I got some recipes from my grandma, because I thought that sounded nice, right? Some of your family, some of mine. And then some I made from recipes on the internet, because those are just - us, you know? They can be ours. But they might still be crap, honestly, I had Martyn taste a lot of them but he might have just been nice-” 

Phil cuts Dan’s long and winding ramble off by putting his hands on either side of Dan’s neck, fingertips meeting against his hairline, and kissing him on the mouth. “Dan. Yes. We can do Christmas this year here, together.” 

It’s not as though Phil hasn’t already been thinking about it. He loves his family and even two or three years ago he couldn’t have imagined the idea of a Christmas without his mum and dad, but with every passing season he gets a little more yearning in his heart to wake up with Dan beside him, to exchange presents by their own tree on the day itself, to roast their own Christmas dinner. 

It would be nice, Phil also thinks, to have at least a couple of years of making their own traditions before it might be more than just the two of them that make up their little family. 

Dan lets out a breath that it sounds like he’s probably been holding for days and says a quiet, “Thank you.” 

“Now.” Phil turns and grins. “Cake for breakfast.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to shoe for beta reading!


End file.
